


Five Minute Detour

by Wrespawn



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Coercion, Fake AH Crew, Guns, I had a mighty thirst, Knifeplay, M/M, Nipple Play, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18014723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn
Summary: Jeremy has the misfortune of being in a bank when the Fake AH Crew starts robbing it.  Worse than that, he catches the Vagabond’s eye.This story is NOT part of the Game Night universe.Warnings: Knifeplay with cutting, bloodplay, nipple play.  Threats of gun violence.  Although the sexual content in this is light, it is absolutely not consensual.  Jeremy is threatened into cooperation and is frightened the whole time.





	Five Minute Detour

Ryan liked chests.

The hostage’s dark, sleeveless shirt was a little too small for him.  Ryan could see the shift of every frightened breath.  He rested his assault rifle on his shoulder as he stared shamelessly, eating up the sight.  The soft bulge of pecs below the fabric was a tantalizing tease.  

Vaguely, Ryan could hear the shouts of his crewmates echoing in the bank’s lobby as they robbed the place, rounding up everyone in the building, making them sit on the marble floor with the others.  He tuned out the white noise.  If his crew needed him, they’d say so.  For now, his job was to stand here and look scary with a gun so the hostages would behave.

He could do that  _and_ oogle the cute one.

The hostage must know he was staring.  That nervous gaze kept flicking in Ryan’s direction before flicking away again, not wanting to draw attention.  As if a man could go out in public looking like that and  _not_ draw attention.  Those bare arms were as much of a crime as the tight shirt was.  Ryan chewed his lip.  Damn, he could  _just_ see the teasing bumps of nipples through the dark fabric.  He wanted to drag the tip of a knife over them.

It wasn’t the first time the Vagabond had been hard during a heist, and wouldn’t be the last.

“Bathrooms are clear.  That’s the last of ‘em.”

Ryan pulled his gaze away from the hostage at the sound of the familiar voice.  Michael was stalking across the room towards the hostages, firearm resting on his shoulder.

“Hey, Mogar.  You’ve got this handled, right?”  Ryan inclined his head towards the sitting civilians.  “Point gun at hostages, keep hostages from moving… one man job, right?”

Michael huffed, shifting his gun.  “You blowin’ off our date, Vagabond?”

“Nahhhh, just taking a detour.”  Ryan’s gaze had already wandered back to the hostage.  “Won’t take long.”

Without waiting for an answer, Ryan strode towards the hostage, whose gaze snapped up towards him instantly.  Oh yeah, that man sure as shit knew he’d been getting eyefucked for the past few minutes.  He wasn’t trying to avoid Ryan’s gaze anymore, flinching back across the floor in panic as Ryan stalked towards him.

“Hold down the fort, Mogar.”  Ryan grabbed the hostage’s bare arm (nice and warm and firm) and hauled him to his feet.  The hostage cursed, stumbling, not taking his eyes off Ryan’s gun.  “I’ll be back.”

“Jesus, you can’t fucking help yourself, can you?”

The hostage staggered after him as Ryan dragged him across the lobby, towards the bathrooms that Michael had just cleared.  “I’ll be back!” he repeated cheerfully.

From across the room, Geoff sighed loudly.  “You’ve got five minutes tops, Vagabond!” he snapped.  “I’m starting a timer!”

Ryan snorted, not breaking his stride.  “You ruin all my fun, Kingpin.”

Five minutes wasn’t enough time for all the things he  _wanted_ to do, but it was enough time for a little taste.  This man looked too delicious not to taste.

The bathrooms weren’t far.  Ryan pulled the stumbling hostage into the sleek marble room and slammed him against a wall.  Before he could say a word, the hostage beat him to it.

“I-I’ll behave!”  The hostage was pressed back against the wall even without Ryan needing to hold him there.  His eyes were wide, his hands lifted in surrender.  “I’ll be good, I-I won’t give you any trouble, y-you don’t need to— sh-shit, you don’t need to m-make an example of me or anything—“

Ryan let out a pleased breath.  When the hostage had been sitting with the others, it was hard to tell how tall he was, but now… he could see the man was  _adorably_ short.  Strong, muscled, thick, but he still had to look  _up_ to meet Ryan’s gaze.  Ryan lowered his rifle, letting it dangle by his side, and he gave the hostage a reassuring smile.

“…What’s your name?”

The question— or perhaps the absence of the gun— seemed to ease some of the hostage’s terror.  “…J-Jeremy,” he mumbled.

“Jeremy.”  Ryan tried out the name.  He liked the feel of it on his tongue.  “Are you having a good bank robbery, Jeremy?”

Jeremy’s mouth sounded dry, his words weak.  “Th-the robbers seem  _very_ professional, I appreciate that.”

“Aww, you flatterer.”  Ryan lifted his gun, giving it a little wave.  “…You want me to put this away?”

Jeremy nodded.  “Y-yes.  Please.  Sir.”

Ryan chuckled as he clicked the safety on. “Ooooh, you really  _are_ behaving.”  He slipped the gun’s strap over his shoulder, letting the familiar weight rest against his back.  He waved his empty hands at the hostage.  “There, all gone.”  

In the blink of an eye, Ryan’s hand flicked to his belt.  He slid out a long, heavy hunting knife.  Jeremy flinched back, his face pale as Ryan held the knife between them.

“This is  _much_ better, mm?”  Ryan tilted the blade, admiring the way the light flashed over it.  “More personal.”

“P-please, please don’t—“

“Lift your shirt.”

Jeremy’s breath seemed to stutter.  “Wh… what?”

“That shirt looks good on you.  I’d hate to cut it.”  Ryan rested the tip of the blade under Jeremy’s chin.  “Lift.  Your.  Shirt.”

Jeremy swallowed.  Slowly, as though stalling, his shaking hands grabbed the hem of his shirt, and he began dragging it up.  Ryan’s greedy gaze followed, drinking up the exposed skin, the dusting of dark hair, the thick waist and muscle.  As the fabric lifted higher, Jeremy suddenly pulled his gaze away, a flush rising to his cheeks.  Ryan tsked, letting his knife fall away from Jeremy’s chin.

“Why the blush?  You’re not self-conscious, are you?”

Jeremy’s breath hitched and he shut his eyes as the knife touched his chest.  “Sh-shit, please…“

“Shhhh, just gonna be one little cut.”  Ryan trailed the tip of the knife over Jeremy’s chest.  “I don’t have time to play any  _real_ games with you.  But I…”  He paused, moaning under his breath as the knife dragged over a firm nipple.  “…I  _need_ to see you bleed.”

God, that looked just as good as he’d imagined.  The steely knife glinted against Jeremy’s skin, that sensitive little nub stiffening under the cold touch.  Ryan teased the tip in a slow circle, watching the sharp edge lightly scrape, not quite pressing hard enough to cut.  Jeremy was trembling against the wall, holding his breath so his chest wouldn’t bump against the knife.  His hands were fisted tight in his own shirt, keeping it lifted so Ryan’s knife could explore.

“Mmh.”  Ryan’s breath was growing quicker as his knife moved again, tracing the satisfying bulge of a pectoral muscle.  “ _Good_ boy.”

The knife tilted, pressed, cut,  _slid._ The muscle jumped under Ryan’s knife and Jeremy whined through his teeth as it dragged a slow red line across his chest.  Ryan’s breath had become open panting.  He smeared his thumb through the cut, through the hot red blood, painting a red streak over the same nipple his knife had teased.  The touch pulled another noise out of Jeremy, a strained whimper, and the flush on his cheeks darkened.

“Hey.”  Ryan’s voice was soft.  “Hey.  Look at me.”

Jeremy obeyed, his breath as heavy as Ryan’s.  A squeak slipped out of him as Ryan’s thumb moved again, swirling the drying blood over his nipple.

“See that?”  Ryan pulled his hand away from Jeremy’s chest and instead held up the red-smeared knife.  “That’s your blood.”  

He tilted the blade, and Jeremy’s wide-eyed gaze followed it.  A trickle of blood shimmered down the steel edge.

Ryan’s voice was breathless as he held the knife close to Jeremy’s face.  “Lick it.”

Jeremy’s frightened gaze darted between the knife and Ryan’s face.  He hesitated, then opened his mouth and leaned closer.  Ryan groaned at the sight.  Jeremy’s soft, pink tongue slipped out and slid along the flat of the blade, avoiding the sharp edge.  His breath was heavy, steaming against the blade, his gaze locked on Ryan in obvious desperation to please.  Ryan could see bright red staining across that soft pink tongue.  

“…Fuck.”  Ryan whined in frustration.  “Ah, fuck, I shouldn’t have done that.  Geoff’s gonna kill me _.”_

As if summoned, the com in his ear crackled, and Geoff’s rough voice came through.

_“Vagabond, your five minutes are up!  Get your ass back in the heist!”_

Ryan groaned.  He reached up and slipped the com out of his ear.  “Sorry, Kingpin.”   He dropped the chattering com into his pocket as Jeremy watched with rapid breath and wide eyes.  “Afraid I didn’t hear that.”  


End file.
